Give Me A Reason to Let You Go
by sothishappened
Summary: "There is more than one way to save a person, more than the one way Santana learned long ago when she was four years old and her parents didn't think she was too old for fairy tales and bed time stories." Collection of one-shots.
1. I'll Save You If You Want Me To

**A/N:** _Hey all! Here's the thing: I'm writing drabbles for some prompts from Tumblr for a friend. It's been months and I finally did one, which is "**Get Me**" (a drabble about one character saving another). There's 24 prompts and so this will be a collection of drabbles from those prompts. _

_I don't know if I'll be updating this one regularly; maybe when inspiration strikes. _

_I'll be updating Letters and Promises soon, I hope..._

_Italics are so much fun to read._

* * *

When Santana was four, her parents used to tell her bed time stories about heroes and saviors and big, giant castles far, far away. Santana used to dream of being the hero, the one that slays the dragon and kisses the pretty blonde princess.

She used to draw up plans of battle armor and print out different types of outfits that she'd wear when she goes on her quest. She used to cry for another bedtime story until her parents caved and happily read her favorite-the one where a man named Flynn Ryder stumbles upon a tower and a woman named Rapunzel, freeing and saving her from the prison she was kept away in.

(She'd been too young to realize that in some ways, they had both saved each other.)

Then, when Santana turned six, her parents decided that she was too old for bed time stories.

Santana didn't mind, because they were getting old anyways; or at least that's what she tells herself. So she took comfort in playing with dolls and trains and model cars. She took comfort in dressing up as a knight and jabbing her plastic swords at stuffed dragons and saving her dolls.

Sometimes even her parents will join as Santana and her mother teamed up to destroy the evil dragon that is her father (who can breathe fire and fly and a million other fantastic things, thank you very much).

No matter what though, Santana makes sure they all end the same: happily and with the defeat of the awful fire breathing dragon.

(She was too innocent to realize that perhaps the dragon needed to be protected and saved too.)

Santana was ten when she got in her first fist fight of her elementary school career. She explained to her teacher that a girl with golden blonde hair like Rapunzel's and bright blue eyes that even the ocean would be jealous of had been crying and she couldn't not do anything about it.

Then she told the principle that a big burly sixth grader had took the blonde's stuffed elephant and sneered at her, mocking her because 10 year olds aren't really supposed to be carrying stuffed animals around on playgrounds any more.

Then she told her parents she really didn't mean it and she'd try to be better.

Nobody tells Santana that she's a hero for standing up to the bully until the day after the incident, when the same blonde with her stuffed elephant came trudging up to her at lunch time, casually sitting down next to her and pulling out a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich from her My Little Pony lunch box like she's been doing it all her life. She hands Santana a cookie that she reluctantly accepts.

"I'm Brittany."

"Santana."

"Thanks for kicking his shin for me."

"Any time."

And Santana means it.

Santana is timid and shy at first, reluctant to strike up a conversation, but when Brittany starts talking about the fairy tales Santana hadn't heard of since she was six; Santana decides that she liked Brittany after all.

(Then she promised herself that she would protect and save Brittany from everything that was horrible in this world.)

/

It wasn't until she was 12 that the silent dinners with her parents and the lack of conversation in her house started to sink in.

That was when the fighting started, the screaming and accusations and the picture frames were thrown across the room. That was when both her parents started taking up longer hours at the office and the hospital, seemingly forgetting their daughter and the holes in their marriage.

(Santana doesn't realize that it was because happily ever afters didn't exist, and that her dad had been meeting with his secretary and her mom with another co-worker.)

She was 14 when it all broke, when her father left without a word, suitcase in one hand and divorce papers in the other. It had been midnight and Santana was left sobbing on the phone with Brittany while the blonde on the other line whispered soothing words to her and promised to stay there with Santana until morning.

"I don't think he's coming back, Britt."

Her sobs became louder as she tried harder to keep her tears at bay and her mind is on overload when the question slipped out of her mouth. "Why do they leave?"

Her sobs subside when she hears Brittany whisper from the other end, "I'm still here, San. I'll always be here."

(That night, Brittany saved her instead.)

/

She was 17 when she realized she was different. She didn't like the sloppy kisses Puck offered her or the rough hands that grabs at her waist to bring her closer. She didn't find boys as enjoyable to look at than girls.

And she was frightened. So she defended herself the only way she knew how, by becoming the evil dragon that roars fire and breathes flames. She kept everyone at bay, especially Finn, the awkward and tall boy who tries to play hero.

She stays in the closet and notices just how broken people around her are for the first time; the tired looks from her mom when she comes home from work, the angry glares Finn shoots at Rachel and Puck, and the sad eyes from Quinn that went unnoticed by everyone.

(She realizes then that the fairy tales she'd known so long ago requires more than the prince saving the princess, because the others needed saving too.)

/

When she was nearing 18, her secret got out and she decides that this must be the part where the hero delivers the final blow and knocks down the dragon. She decides that she's finally done with this world.

And she almost goes through with it, eyeing the bottle of pills and glass of water in her hands. It all seemed so easy and so harmless. It all seemed to make sense.

But apparently she couldn't make those decisions herself, because Brittany shows up at her doorsteps and embraces her the minute she sees her, taking in her small frame as Santana allowed herself to break.

Santana cries, curled up in Brittany's arm and for the first time in her life, she allowed herself to be saved.

And when Brittany whispers, "I love you, I love you, I love you," over and over again in her hair, Santana is reminded of a promise she made long ago to herself, the aspiring knight in shining armor.

So she decides something else. She decides that she'll keep holding on as long as Brittany is here.

(And promises were meant to be broken, so Santana decides that Brittany is the hero instead.)

/

When Ohio finally legalizes gay marriage-a day no one thought would come-Santana gets married at the ripe age of 25, to a certain blonde she had gotten the luck to call her best friend, her girlfriend, her fiancé, and now, her wife.

She cries when she sees Brittany in her wedding dress as they both made their way down the aisle, side by side.

She says her vows and means every single word. She chokes on her "I do", because she can't believe they're finally there. She kisses Brittany with all the hope and promises the future they would lead together after the priest announces them married. She dips her and kisses her like the day they won Nationals long ago because she can.

At the reception, she holds Brittany's hand as they look down at the crowd of people from their own table as people started to give out toasts, and Santana can't help but sneak looks at the diamond studded ring that rested on the third finger of Brittany's left hand.

Santana almost cries when her father stands up and gave a short speech about how proud he was of her. They all laugh as Quinn describes their cheerios and glee days and when fellow glee club members whoop and shout about how they'd been inseparable.

Then she stood and told her own story. She tells them about fairy tales and knights and dragons, as cheesy as they sound. She talks about saving people in more than one way. She looks at Brittany, chocolate brown meeting shining blue, and Santana thanks her. She thanks Brittany for saving her sorry ass again and again. Thanks her for saving her from everything in the midst of nothing. And most of all, she thanks Brittany for saving her from herself.

She smiles and her vision is blurry as she tells Brittany how she had promise herself to protect her, but in more than one way Brittany had saved her and protected her instead.

And then she decides that this is her happily ever after, even the after part-the part where there would be arguments and disagreements that would some times lead to them storming out a door, because she promises and trusts that they would both come back, somehow. Because they were Santana and Brittany, Brittany and Santana, inseparable since the day Brittany sat down by her with her My Little Pony lunch box and offered Santana a cookie.

Brittany pulls her down and kisses her then, their faces both streaked with happy tears and the kiss is tender and sweet and a way of Brittany telling her that she had actually kept her promise to herself all along, she just didn't know it.

(The smile both Brittany and her wore doesn't come off the whole night.)

/

There is more than one way to save a person, more than the one way Santana heard of long ago, when she was four years old and her parents didn't think she was too old for fairy tales or bed time stories.

It was more than slaying a dragon or kissing the princess awake or riding off into the sunset with a promise of a happily ever after.

It was more than Brittany saving Santana from herself or staying on the phone when her dad left.

But it was all much more simple than that, in the midst of it all, because Brittany had saved Santana simply by just being. And yet it was still more complicated than that.

Santana thought about these things, but when she looked over to her mom and sees her with a smile while talking to her dad and Finn congratulating Quinn and Rachel on their engagement (to say that Santana never really saw _that _one coming was a complete lie), she takes in the happiness that is everywhere, if only for just a single moment. And then she looks to her right and she sees Brittany in her wedding dress, smiling the brightest smile and bringing up their intertwined hands to leave a lingering kiss at Santana's knuckles, Santana realizes it didn't really matter who saved who.

(Because they were just them; and no one really needed saving any more.)


	2. There's No Tomorrow, Only Now

**A/N:** _Hello! Thanks to the lovely people who reviewed, favorited, or followed!_

_The next chapter of Letters and Promises will hopefully be out by...Tomorrow? It's in the works, I promise!_

_Another AU one-shot here for ya, in which Brittany is diagnosed and living with Lou Gehrig's disease, where the person diagnosed will slowly regress in movement, speaking, and will have difficulty breathing & swallowing. This is from the prompt "__**Call**_**_Me_**_", where one character asks for another._

_It's like the disease Aya had in One Litre Of Tears (if any of you have seen that) but different in a way._

_If you wanna know/understand more, google it because I did... :)_

_Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this lil' piece of work._

_Review, favorite, or follow; I'd love to hear comments/critiques. Many more prompts to come!_

_Love y'all!_

* * *

"She's asking for you."

Santana looks up from the table, eyes blood shot and puffy from the lack of sleep and crying. The rest of the Glee club is there too, worry etched in their faces and Brittany had asked to see each of them, one by one.

Santana was the last, and she doesn't know what to do. She just looks at Quinn, who is standing before her and telling her Brittany was asking for her, and she tries to find reassurance in those hazel eyes. She finds sadness and longing and helplessness instead. That was when Santana knew it was almost time, if Brittany's request to gather them all one last time was any indication.

She gulps and voices her thoughts, her throat scratchy and worn from her lack of talking and hydration. "How much has she regressed?"

Quinn shakes her head and says it again. "She's asking for you."

So Santana just nods, stands up and brushes her shirt off. She doesn't know what to do other than make her way out the waiting room door, footsteps heavy until Rachel starts calling after her. It was then that Santana realized she didn't know where she was going, even though she's been coming here for the past month to see her. Brittany had switched rooms just this morning, though Santana isn't sure why. She turns around to face Rachel when she's just a step away from the exit.

"Room 113," Rachel says, softly. "Second door to the right, just down the hallway."

Numb, Santana nods. "Thanks," she mumbled.

Rachel smiles in response and walks away without another word, settling back into her seat next Quinn. Santana doesn't have the energy to smile back. She looks at the Glee club, all huddled together like the weird dysfunctional family they'd become: Quinn reassuring Rachel and Mercedes holding Artie's hand, silently praying. She sees Finn with his head down and hands stuffed in his jacket pockets and Kurt sitting cross legged, leaning into Blaine.

She takes in the way Puck is sitting, arms crossed and looking nonchalant while Sam fidgeted nervously next to him. She smiles a little when she sees Lauren comforting Sugar, who had been the most upset out of all of them, not counting Santana. Mr Schuester and Emma is there too, sitting at the side, holding hands and leaning on one another.

And suddenly Santana felt just a bit lighter, taking in the image and tucking it away to tell Brittany later. She knows Brittany will smile at the thought of the whole Glee club still here waiting even though they could all just go home already, and then they'd giggle together at Finn's awkwardness and Puck trying to be bad ass. It'd be just like all those sleepovers and late night talks they had shared so easily in the past. When everything was all right in the world and Brittany used to cheer and walk and dance. When she didn't have to be pushed around in a wheel chair or use all the strength she could to form just one word.

Bracing herself, Santana turns and slowly makes her way to the hospital room.

She knocks softly before opening the door and going in, even though she knows Brittany can't really speak any more. "Hey, Britt," she says softly, her hand still on the handle of the wood hospital door.

When Brittany smiles, Santana gains the courage to fully walk in the room, taking in the stuffed animals Rachel and Quinn bought and the cards from Coach Sue and the Glee club. Her birthday balloons of various colors from a week ago is still afloat by her bedside.

Technically, it was from two days ago because Santana had secretly been replacing all the balloons that'd ran out of helium when the blonde was sleeping. She had remembered the joy in Brittany's blue, blue eyes when they'd come in with cupcakes with rainbow frosting baked by the whole Glee club (to be honest, Santana is still traumatized by the whole experience in that kitchen), singing Happy Birthday with balloons in tow and didn't want to see Brittany's fallen face when she awoke the next morning and found out the helium had run out.

She sits down right by Brittany and takes her hand, lifting it and kissing it softly. "Hi," she whispers, setting down Brittany's hand but still keeping it interlaced with hers. She smiles at Brittany when she meets her eyes, because it's dancing again and because it's all she can do to keep from crying again in front of her. "They're all still here, you know. The doctors keep pestering them to go home but they won't leave."

At this, Brittany's eyes twinkle mischievously and Santana almost laughs at the smirk that's playing on the blonde's lips. "They've always been like this, huh?"

Brittany nods slowly and points to her built in hospital desk. Santana smiles knowingly and lets go of Brittany's hand to pick up the alphabet board, all 26 letters printed out neatly in dull black on the clear plastic, standing it up and tilting it so Brittany could see them all. She watches as Brittany points out two simple letters.

_We._

She laughs - really laughs in a way she hadn't ever since two days ago when Brittany found out she couldn't speak anymore - because it's just something /Brittany/ would say. "I forgot we were one of those singing geeks in New Directions for a second," Santana jokes, winking at Brittany, because they both know they'd never forget, because glee club had saved them all. "The glorious outcasts."

Brittany grins and points at letters again. Santana pays close attention as Brittany's fingers drift from one letter to another.

_Better._

Santana turns to Brittany and gives her a sad smile. She leans forward and kisses Brittany, a soft, chaste kiss that puts everything Santana had ever wanted to say to Brittany but never got to or had the courage to. Her hands find Brittany's again and she gives it a reassuring squeeze before reluctantly pulling back, their foreheads touching and eyes still closed. "You've always bought out the best in me," Santana mumbles, and it's the most honest thing she's ever said.

It's not the words Santana had hoped to say, but she couldn't find the courage to say the other three words that taunted her, so Santana saved it for tomorrow morning instead.

Brittany lets out a soft sniffle and Santana registers the tears coming down her face, mixing with Brittany's.

Santana opens her eyes and leans back on the hospital chair again, wiping back her tears hurriedly with the left hand that wasn't tangled with Brittany's because she promised herself this wouldn't happen again. She giggles a little and reaches forward to brush the tears off Brittany's face with her thumb. She sniffles a little. "No crying, remember?"

Brittany just nods, smiling through her tears as Santana pulls her chair forwards even more, so half her body is almost just lying with Brittany as she picked up the discarded alphabet board with her left hand while her right found Brittany's hands again.

"So why is it I'm the last one to see you tonight, Britt Britt?" Santana teases, nudging Brittany with a playful smile on her face.

Brittany just turns slowly to Santana, giving her a light hearted smile before giving her attention to the alphabets again.

_Stay?_

Santana's turns to Brittany, confused. "I've been staying here with you for the past month, B," she says, tilting her head and eyebrows raising, "or have you forgotten?"

Brittany giggles and shakes her head. She points at letters again. _ Sleep._ Then she moved herself as far as she could to the other side of the bed, patting the small unoccupied space by her.

Santana laughs and climbs onto the bed, barely on the edge and laying on her side, their bodies pressed flushed against each other. "Just like that one sleep over at my house, huh, Britt?"

Santana recalls that one sleep over almost too vividly and well. It was when Santana was 15 and her dad had walked out the door with no intentions of turning back. She'd call Brittany that night, sobbing and crying for a good half an hour before she heard a soft knock on her window. She had looked over and there stood Brittany, grinning wildly and waving her cell phone like a mad person. Santana had allowed herself to break in Brittany's arms that night, holding onto her while she sobbed and cursed her father until she fell asleep from exhaustion.

Santana snaps out of the memory when Brittany turns her head to be face to face with Santana, their foreheads touching only in the slightest, grinning like a child who'd been given candy.

Santana grins back and they lay like that for a while, taking in each other's breathing and the comfortable silence in the room. Eventually, Brittany's breathing evens out enough to indicate to Santana that she was asleep.

"Goodnight, Britt," Santana whispers, reaching up and placing a lingering kiss on the blonde's forehead. She says the one thing she's always said whenever she sees Brittany asleep, but never awake. "I love you."

* * *

Santana secretly wished Brittany hadn't been asleep all those times she'd told her the one thing she couldn't say when she'd been awake, because Brittany doesn't wake up the next morning.

* * *

It's a week after the funeral when Santana receives a letter from her. She'd been expecting one, because the Glee club members had all gotten theirs throughout the week and Santana had been last. Just like the fact that Santana was the last person Brittany spoke to.

It still hurts to hear her name, but mainly it just hurts everywhere in general because Santana feels like she could see Brittany everywhere; from the matching Minnie and Mickey Mouse coffee mugs to the lingering smell of /her/ on the one shirt Santana stole from her.

She tears the letter open almost desperately and instead of an actual written letter that was typed with the help of Emma that the rest of them had gotten, Santana is met by four big clumsily written words in Sharpie.

_I love you too._


	3. Paper Airplanes & Chasing Dreams

A/N: _Sorry about the delay. Here's an extra long one shot for y'all! (Is it just me or did that sounded a tad wanky?) Anywayssss._

_This was inspired by Paperman, an animated short by Disney. If you haven't seen it yet, I recommend so! It's on Youtube & the music is just incredible. Not to mention the mix of 3D animation & 2D animation was breathtaking. But I won't geek out on you now._

_This prompt doesn't have a theme, it was just a spur of the moment._

_Hope you guys enjoy! More one-shots to come._

_Review, like, follow, whatever floats your boat! (Although criticism & thoughts are much appreciated.)_

* * *

Paper airplanes are from the heart. When you give one out, it's like you're offering a part of you to that somebody, a small piece of yourself that you're willing to share.

Santana hadn't known that when she was nearing 8 years old and sitting in an overly-stuffy classroom while the teacher tried to teach them all addition and subtraction. The reason behind the paper airplane that was now sitting at her small desk was quite simple, really. It was because she had been bored out of her mind, her only distraction being the blank sheet of paper she was supposed to be practicing her additions on. The airplane was a pretty good one, if she did say so herself. Proud, Santana wondered if it could fly just as well as it had looked.

And in that moment of questioning, an opportunity arose as the teacher walked out of the room, saying something about forgetting to photocopy their worksheets and would be right back, and that the class had better behave itself because the photocopier was just across their room.

Smirking, Santana drew the airplane in her hand back, getting it ready for takeoff. She counted down in her mind, her smirk growing larger by the second.

_..10_

_Paper airplanes may lead you to the most strange places._

_9.._

_If you followed it, it might just lead you to the right person._

_..8_

_And even if you're about to give up, it'd form an army and wrestle you to your destiny._

_7.._

_Your fate._

_..6_

_And like everything else, it changes and slams into you when you least expected it to._

_5.._

_That day, 8 year-old Santana had made sure that the airplane would go straight into the waste basket right beside her teacher's desk._

_..4_

_In fact, she took pride in her aim._

_3.._

_One eye squinted, waste basket in sight._

_..2_

_It's close, it can make it. This airplane would fly gracefully._

_1.._

_She lets go of the plane almost joyously, laughing a little bit as she did so. It's flying, taking it's course almost gracefully, and Santana can't help but beam._

_Then it changed it's course._

_0._

/

Santana really didn't mean for it to happen, and her eyes went wide when the sudden breeze blew from the windows (why now, of all times? The scorching sun that didn't even help the stuffy air in the classroom hadn't permitted nice things like warm summer breezes) and changed her airplane's course.

She blamed it on mother nature.

(Later, Santana learned to thank it.)

It flew almost swiftly and softly nudged someone's head, someone who had been sitting just a desk away from her. Santana strained her neck to see who it was, but all she saw from behind Mike's freakishly large head was a mess of blonde hair; golden and shining like the sun's.

(Except not like Lima's scorching and angry sun. Santana just didn't know how to describe it at the time.)

Santana had wanted to walk over and just take the paper airplane back without explanation or an apology. After all, it was an accident. It was supposed to land in the waste basket.

Santana leaned until she almost fell off her seat, and she finally caught a good view of the blonde. She watched and watched as the girl picked up her paper airplane and inwardly flinched as she prepared to be yelled at or punched by said blonde girl. Or both. Santana doesn't receive neither of these reactions. Instead, she watched in awe as the blonde girl grinned and picked up her paper airplane, turning her head to see who had thrown it.

That was when Santana met her eyes. Beautiful, bright blue eyes that was like the sky, which seemed fitting to Santana because her hair was the sun. It twinkled and danced and took even the then 8 year-old Santana's breath away.

She could feel the heat creeping up her cheeks as the blonde girl grinned at her - bright white teeth and all - and waved her paper airplane at her. Santana's eyes widened as the blonde hopped off her chair and approached her desk, arms swinging with a slight skip to her steps.

"I think you dropped this," the blonde says, placing the airplane lightly on Santana's desk.

8 year-old Santana is speechless, which was rare even then. All she does is stare at the paper airplane that was now on her desk. She gulped, looking up and meeting the other girl's eyes. "You can keep it."

Bright blue eyes widened. "Really?"

Santana nods.

The blonde girl snatched away the airplane almost instantly, and offers out a hand. "I'm Brittany." She grins again.

Oddly enough, Santana found herself grinning back and taking Brittany's hand for a shake. "Santana."

/

They're lying on the grass of Brittany's backyard in silence, taking in each other and sharing the comfortable silence until Santana breaks it.

"BrittBritt?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you do when you're sad?"

Brittany looks over to Santana, concern in her eyes. "Are you sad, San?"

"Just a bit."

"Why?"

Santana shrugs, and Brittany doesn't push it any further.

"I look at stars," Brittany admits, her voice soft and small. "I'd lie here whenever I'm sad and look at stars and think of things that makes me happy."

"What do you think about?"

Brittany smiles. "Paper airplanes."

/

They were 15 when the lines between friend or something more blurred and confused them both; Santana, because to her, the possibility of something more meant something she wasn't ready to accept yet, and Brittany, because she didn't know what being something more meant.

"Does that mean we're girlfriends?"

The question caught Santana off guard. "What?"

It had been a normal evening between the both of them; as normal as it could be with the both of them cuddled together on the couch watching Sweet Valley High and occasionally sneaking kisses. "Girlfriends. Like, two girls who date. It's allowed, you know," Brittany said casually, her fingers tracing hearts on Santana's arms and making her shiver.

"How would you know?" Then, suddenly realizing where Brittany could possibly require such information, she sat up and pulled herself away from Brittany's embrace to stare at her. "You didn't tell anyone about us, did you?"

Brittany shook her head. Then, after a while, she said, "I asked Lord Tubbington, but I used a cover. I said I was asking for a friend, but he just told me to google it and went back to smoking his cigar and flirting with the neighbor's cat."

Santana scrunched up her nose. "The hairless one that Mrs. Toby owns?"

"Yeah."

"She's way out of his league," Santana deadpanned, settling back in Brittany's arm.

And that was that.

/

They never got to figure it all out for themselves, because that was their last summer spent together.

/

"Santana?" They were on the swings of their favorite park, swaying back and forth in the slightest motion. Santana knows Brittany is suspecting something, and it still sort of freaked her out how well the blonde could read her. "Is everything okay?"

No, everything was not.

She hated Lima, sure. She hated it's scorching hot sun and how everyone seemed to know everyone. But what Santana hated the most was that she hated the fact that she was actually, honestly, leaving Lima. Because leaving Lima meant leaving Brittany.

Santana glares at the concrete. She refused to look up at those sea blue eyes.

"San?"

Nope. Not even a peek.

"We don't have to talk right now, San, what about we go get ice cream first?" Santana could almost see the glint in Brittany's eyes. "My mom gave me ten dollars before I came. We can share a whole banana split and still have some money left to buy Dots later."

Santana finally gave up and reluctantly looked up, and sure enough, Brittany was smiling ear to ear, and it was enough for her to spill the news she learned just last night. "I'm moving."

Brittany perked up and sat up straighter on her swing. "Which house?"

Santana cringed at Brittany's hopefulness, because they had been talking about how great it'd be if they were neighbors and didn't live 3 blocks away from each other. "California," Santana heard herself say, and went back to glaring at the concrete. She readied herself for the disappointed sigh, the look of sadness, or something amongst those lines. But she doesn't get any of these things.

Instead, she sees a hand outstretched in front of her face. She looked up to meet Brittany's eyes; and they still shone and danced, even if Santana could still see a hint of sadness. The smile was still there; the smile that Santana had loved so much.

Brittany's nose scrunched up a bit, considering something, before speaking. "I think we should get a sundae instead."

Santana laughed, throwing her head back and wiping away a few stray tears, and took Brittany's hand, allowing the blonde to pull her up from the swing.

They walked away from the park, still holding hands, until Santana remembered something else and playfully bumped Brittany on her hips. "I think I'll like banana splits better, Britt."

And then, out of pure bravery and the feeling of doing something right from all the wrongs in her life, she kissed Brittany on the cheeks and lingered there.

/

Santana's room was empty; the posters that once plagued her wall were gone and boxes replaced the spot that used to be where her bed was. Santana wanted to look away from it all, but at the same time, she couldn't stop looking. She doesn't think Brittany could, either.

"Your room is really neat, San," Brittany whispered almost inaudibly. "Neater than all the times I slept over."

They were standing at the door way, side by side, and taking everything in.

Empty, empty, empty.

"I never knew my walls were yellow," Santana whispered back.

"Me neither."

Suddenly a rustling noise coming from beside her made her turn to look at Brittany. She was rummaging through her travel bag, the one she always had on throughout the whole summer, murmuring something all the while.

"Britt?"

Brittany hummed a little, but still didn't look up.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for something, I got you a gift."

Santana nodded almost reluctantly, and went back to staring at her empty room.

"Here it is!" Santana turned, and in Brittany's hands was a paper airplane, crinkled and worn. "It's the one that hit my head when I was trying to do addition!" She studied it for a while, turning it around in her hands, and Santana couldn't do anything but stare in disbelief. "My mom used to say that paper airplanes were made because people wanted to fly and give other people messages from their heart. I don't know how to make one, so I figured I'd just give this one back instead."

Santana tilted her head. "But wouldn't that be giving my message from the heart back instead?"

Brittany laughed, "I guess so, San." Her eyes twinkled. "What if you teach me how to make one so then I'd get to keep this one, and you get to have my very first message from the heart."

"Deal."

They spend the rest of the day searching for unused paper and making paper airplanes, laughing and running around like they were 8 years old again. They hid around corners and sneaked in kisses and lingering touches, casting each other shy and knowing glances.

"I'm going to miss you."

"Me too."

Santana knows she should say something - anything - about their situation, about keeping in touch, about anything that would reassure the both of them.

But all that was too late now, because just as Santana opened her mouth to speak, her parents suddenly showed up and started bidding Brittany goodbye.

/

As Santana drove farther and farther away from Lima, she slowly realizes that she may be in love with Brittany and that she'll probably never see her again.

* * *

New York was always crowded with people, always moving, always changing. It was a place where destiny and fate fell hand in hand, where dreamers can dream and make those dreams true.

Brittany's first thought as she stepped out of her cab and into Time Square was that she's quite sure she's never seen that many billboards and shiny signs together all at once. Her second thought was that she's pretty sure nothing moves as fast as New York.

/

It was Santana's favorite place in the world. It was where the lyrics and the music all came together, where artists live and thrive. It was where she got her big break, where she recorded her very first album, where she received the news that one of her songs were #1 on the charts.

But then again, you could almost argue that no, New York wasn't Santana's favorite place in the world, because the one person she's been looking for all her life wasn't in New York. But maybe she was. Santana doesn't know anything, but she should really move on from running after flashes of blonde hair on the subways.

She cursed at herself as she strolled through Central Park, Starbucks in hand and scolded herself for running out the damn subway because she was sure those blonde hair matched bright blue eyes.

How long had it been?

5 years, at the least. Give or take a few.

Which was stupid, because Santana was prone to forgetting things and people she's met (she still couldn't remember half the names of the people who were on her high school cheer team), but she's never been able to forget those piercing and laughing blue eyes.

She eyes the people holding hands and gushing at each other.

Santana decides right then that she hated parks.

/

Central Park. Were there even ducks here? Brittany skipped through the park, a flyer about some ballet show in her one hand and her luggage in toll in the other. She had wanted to go straight to her new apartment after Time Square, but as she hailed another taxi she decided another detour wouldn't hurt.

She wonders if a brunette she's known so long ago was here. Which would completely make sense if she didn't find her anywhere when she was in LA dancing. She'd always imagine Santana somewhere big and fast with tall buildings and lots and lots of cars. She just wanted to know how Santana was doing.

Her eyes immediately flew to the flyer in her hand.

_Paper airplanes are from the heart._

She wonders briefly what would happen if-

_Sometimes, if you follow them, they'd lead you to your destiny._

She sat down on a near by bench, looked at the paper in front of her, and racked her brain trying to remember just exactly how Santana had taught her to make airplanes.

_Sometimes they lead you to the strangest places whether you liked it or not._

Maybe she shouldn't think. Just... Fold it in half and a fold there-

_And sometimes they change their course and smack you in the face so hard you fall backwards and can't get up again in a long time._

Another one right.. There.

_But if you're lucky, it'll lead you somewhere as wonderful as that place beyond rainbows._

Brittany stared at the paper airplane in her hand. It looked a bit dysfunctional, but maybe it could still fly anyways..

Counting down, Brittany readied herself and her plane.

_10.._

_On the other side of Central Park, a brunette played with her empty coffee cup, contemplating on whether to stay or leave for her studio._

_..9_

_After all, doesn't she have that new back up dancer coming in? Quinn's gonna be pissed if she's late for the meeting._

_8.._

_But Santana couldn't really bring herself to even go to work, so she huffed and walked on._

_7.._

_She walked and walked and she thought about things. She thought about 8 year old Brittany and all the other things in between. She thought about their friendship and wondered what would've happened if she'd stayed in Lima._

_..6_

_She wondered how Brittany's been. After all, she only wanted to reunite with her childhood friend. She wanted to talk and catch up with Brittany's life._

_5.._

_It's a strange urge, for Santana knew Brittany so long ago, but the bubbly blonde had made her mark and place in Santana's heart, and Santana just couldn't quite forget._

_..4_

_Santana thinks about paper airplanes._

_3.._

_Broken promises._

_..2_

_Fate and destiny disguised as accidents._

_1.._

_Just as Santana pass the rows and rows of benches of Central Park, too indulged in her thoughts to even notice her surroundings, a certain blonde released a paper airplane and watched it soar through the sky._

_0._

_Fate was not in play that day._

/

Brittany huffed in annoyance as she tried for the billionth time to hail a taxi.

This was New York. This taxi thing shouldn't be that hard, right? You just raise your hand all cool and stuff and whistle and yell in a loud, demanding voice, "Taxi!"

Wrong.

Or at least, it may be wrong.

Maybe Brittany was just doing it wrong.

Maybe you don't really whistle or yell, because no one could really hear you in the busy New York City traffic anyways.

Brittany tried again, raising her hand and without whistling this time, yelled, "Taxi!" with a little jump.

Lo and behold, a shiny yellow cab stopped in front of her, and she stepped towards it proudly, going to the trunk and throwing her luggage in there. She opened the passenger door and got in the backseat just as someone else opened the car door from the other side.

That was when Brittany's eyes met soulful brown ones.

/

Electric blue eyes. Golden blonde hair.

This can't actually be happening right now.

Santana froze for a minute, unable to take her eyes away from the blonde before her. She's afraid that it's Brittany. She's terrified that it's not.

So she murmurs a quick sorry and was about to slam the car door close and hurl herself in front of the oncoming traffic of New York before the blonde stopped her.

"No worries, we can share the cab. Where are you going?"

She gives the blonde a look, got in the cab, and sighed. She slams the door close. "The One Day studio on Broadway and 49th. But we can head to wherever you're going first."

Blondie grins, and Santana could swear some serious de ja vu was happening. "Looks like we're going to the same place."

Santana nods and tried to avoid looking at those damn blue eyes. She's over this. She's better than this. She's not going to ask for the blonde's name because what if it's not Brittany? The woman sure did looked like Brittany though, but at the same time, she didn't. The blonde beside Santana right now had legs that could go on for days and possibly a body of a goddess.

Santana tried not to stare.

She forced herself to look out the window and the cars whizzing pass them. She tried to figure out just exactly how many more minutes she has before she can get out of this cab and away from this blonde as much as possible. Because she made Santana nervous. She made Santana go back to the time of paper airplanes and keeping promises.

"So, how long have you been living in New York?"

Santana cleared her throat. She kept her gaze out the window and the shops that were passing by. "Five years, give or take a few."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Silence hung in the air.

Santana wanted to ask her name. She wanted to know the blonde, wanted to sit closer, wanted to find out about her.

But this was dumb and cheesy and predictable and the blonde beside her is most certainly not Brittany. After all, in a city of thousands of people, there could be hundreds of blondes with electric blue eyes.

It was impossible for the blonde beside her to be Brittany. It wasn't Brittany.

So the silence stayed for the rest of the cab ride.

/

Brittany stepped out the cab, grateful that she's finally away from the awkward silence that had taunted her. She handed the cab driver a twenty and thanked him, closing the car door and heading to the trunk.

"Do you need help with that?"

And there she was again. Brittany almost forgot that the Latina beside her was going to the same place she was.

Her new apartment was just beside the famous One Day studio, though Brittany had never heard of it. Tina, her best friend, had gushed to her about some famous singer that recorded her songs there. Brittany didn't really know. She hadn't been listening.

Brittany suddenly remembered te brunette next to her. She gulped back the urge to ask her her name, because what if she wasn't really Santana? "No." Brittany cleared her throat. "No, it's fine."

She managed a smile at the short Latina, hauled her bags out, and walked away.

Brittany thinks about paper airplanes and fate, and she couldn't resist the urge of looking at the gorgeous Latina one last time. She turned around to face her, and called out, "Thanks for sharing a cab with me!"

The Latina waved and shot her a smile. "Welcome to New York!"

Brittany lets out a small laugh at the brunette.

Perhaps Santana was somewhere else far, far away from New York, happy and thriving and completely unaware of the existence of her.

After all, childhood friends were just that, childhood friends.

With that thought clear in her mind, Brittany turned to face her apartment building.

/

Why were business meetings necessary? What's Rachel blabbering on about?

Santana watches in a daze as Rachel Berry droned on and on about publicity and Santana's summer tour and her next possible album.

God, sometimes Santana wishes she could just mute the girl.

"Santana?"

Her mind went back to the cab ride earlier this morning that made her late for this meeting. But it wasn't a big deal, since the new backup dancer for her summer tour wouldn't be coming in until late this afternoon. Something about a delayed flight.

Santana let her mind wander to electric and soft blue eyes and luscious golden hair.

"Santana!"

Santana jumped from her seat. "Huh?"

Standing in front of her, Rachel seemed to be fuming. Quinn, who was seated beside Santana, snorted. "Someone got some last night."

"Fuck you, Fabray."

"It certainly wasn't me you fucked."

Rachel stared in disbelief. "Were the two of you listening to me at all?"

Quinn nods. Santana shook her head.

Rachel glared at Santana. "As your manager, Santana, I'm obliged to get and provide you information so you'll be better prepared with what's coming next. But if you won't listen, I might as well be singing instead!"

"Oh come on Rach, we all know you sing as well as-"

"Barbra Streisand? Why yes, Santana; my girlfriend is very talented."

Santana kicked Quinn under the table. She shot her a look. /Don't you dare encourage her, Fabray./

Rachel huffed in annoyance. "Whatever, Santana. This meeting's over anyways. The backup dancer should be coming in soon. So prepare for another meeting. Or you can leave, Santana, since you obviously don't care about-"

"Hello?"

Rachel shot up from her small rant and turned to the doorway, where the greeting was heard. Santana didn't bother looking up. She was too busy folding a paper airplane from one of the contracts that was useless to piss Rachel off.

"Brittany!"

Santana stopped midfold. She looked up to see blonde hair flying and Rachel tackling Brittany for a hug.

"Hi, Rachel. I'm surprised you didn't end up on Broadway."

"It was nice of you to visit, Brittany. And yeah, but I found out yelling at people and bossing them around was more my forte. Don't worry, I still sing."

"So, I hear you were looking for a backup dancer?"

Rachel laughed. "You haven't changed a bit, Britt."

Santana was confused. How did the loud female version of Bilbo know Brittany? Was this Brittany? As in the Brittany used to stare up at stars and thought about paper airplanes when they were sad?

Then, from beside her, Quinn cleared her throat.

Rachel jumped. "Oh! Britt, this is my girlfriend and partner, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn gave a little wave. "So you're the new backup dancer Rachel was so excited about, huh?"

How come Rachel never mention her name? Or maybe Santana just hadn't been listening. But could she blame her? Rachel was as dry as the blazing sun back in Lima.

"Brittany here has danced for Beyonce herself. And she owns her own studio in LA with Mike."

Beyonce.

For the second time that day, Santana felt like flinging herself in front of moving cars of the streets of New York.

She stood up and speed walked out of the meeting room, speeding past Rachel and Brittany.

"What are you doing?" Rachel yelled just as Santana was half way down the hall that lead towards the rec room. Santana! I haven't even introduce you yet!"

Santana cringed at the way Rachel yelled her name. No way could she fake it now. "I'm gonna grab a coffee!" she yelled back, and walked on.

What if Brittany didn't remember her at all? This was stupid.

Santana couldn't clear her mind. So she poured herself a cup of scorching hot black coffee and stayed in the rec room, trying to find the courage of going back in the small and stuffy meeting room.

/

A paper airplane sat on the meeting room table. Slowly, Brittany walked over to it and picked it up. She stared at it, bouncing it a little with her hand.

Rachel looked over her shoulder. "Damn it! She didn't make another airplane out of one of those old contracts, did she? I swear, one day-"

"Where's the rec room?"

"It's down the hall, just turn right. Is there something you need, Britt? Cause I can have Quinn get it for you."

Brittany shook her head, turned, and walked out the meeting room, ignoring the look of bewilderment on Rachel's face.

/

What should she say?

Hi, I'm Santana Lopez, and I've been looking for you for half my life!

Santana paced back and forth, trying to cool herself and get her thoughts straight, but her mind was a mess and it felt like she was standing right next to the sun. Santana doesn't know how to go back out there.

Santana considered just staying in the rec room forever. Until something hit her on the back side of her head.

Stunned, she turned around and was about to lash out on Quinn or whoever else that threw whatever it was at her head when her eyes met twinkling blue ones. And then Santana realized it was the woman she had shared a cab with earlier. It was the woman she'd been trying to find. The girl she fell in love with.

Santana looked down and by her feet was a paper airplane. The one she made earlier when she had been thinking about Brittany and ways to piss Rachel off. She leaned down and picked it up. She offered it back to the blonde with outstretched arms. "I think you dropped something."

Brittany stepped forward. "You can keep it."

Santana stared at the paper airplane in her hands, and upon further inspection, she realized this wasn't the one she'd made earlier. This was a brand new one. "You know, someone once told me paper airplanes were made because people had wanted to fly and give others messages from the heart."

Brittany giggled. "She sounds smart."

"She is. Genius, actually."

"It's nice to see you."

"Was that your message from the heart?"

Brittany laughed and shook her head. "I missed you."

Santana nods and a smile slowly formed on her face. "Me too."

/

Santana stood by the doorway leading up to the roof, mesmerized by the way Brittany's hair flew gently against the warm New York breeze and how beautiful she looked under the Christmas lights Santana had made Rachel and Quinn put up with her. The paper airplane in her hands flapped gently against the wind, reminding Santana why she invited Brittany up here in the first place.

This would work.

_10.._

_Sometimes you have to chase your fate in order for it to find you._

_..9_

_And sometimes we forget that, because for so long we've been waiting for that one person._

_8.._

_The thing is, fate is only in play for the beginning, the rest you have to chase._

_..7_

_To capture._

_6.._

_Like paper airplanes, fate could only fly for so long._

_..5_

_Messages from the heart would eventually become real kisses and burning touches._

_4.._

_Like paper airplanes, everything in life was unpredictable._

_..3_

_Sometimes it flies straight, and sometimes it glides against the wind._

_2.._

_And other times, it doesn't fly at all._

_..1_

_Like paper airplanes, nothing goes the way anyone planned, and it had nothing to do with fate or destiny. It had everything to do with bravery to grasp at chances, to embrace change, to chase after dreams._

_Fate was just the beginning, and for Santana and Brittany, paper airplanes began it all._

_0._

Santana's grin widened as the paper airplane hit the back of a certain blonde's head.

(Silently, Santana thanks mother nature.)

/

Brittany turned around and giving Santana a look of confusion, Brittany bent down to pick up the airplane. Scribbled on the wings of the airplane were the words "Open me!"

She stared up at Santana, eyebrows furrowed and smiling a little at the huge and nervous grin Santana had plastered on her face.

Slowly and carefully, Brittany opened up the paper airplane.

Two words stared back at her, scrawled neatly in Sharpie; a simple question.

A message from the heart.

A promise for the future.

_Marry me?_

(Brittany tackles Santana before she even had the chance to kneel down and offer her a ring.)

(And to Santana's immense relief and happiness, Brittany had said yes.)

/

Paper airplanes might not have been the best metaphor in life, but in a way, it sort of was.

Paper airplanes were simple things. They soar with the wind and capture imagination. Yet paper airplanes were complex things, because really, who figured out how to fold the paper? They speak for our hopes and dreams. Our connection with each other; because honestly, who in their life have never made a paper airplane?

It's something so trivial, yet something we all share. And like that old Chinese legend about red strings and soul mates, perhaps paper airplanes were the same. Perhaps we're all connected by paper airplanes dancing in the wind and lost in the skies.

When you let your hope and love and happiness soar, maybe you'll find that one person.

But then the rest is up to you.

Because paper airplanes could only fly for so long, but your strength and courage and love is forever. Grasp on to it. Hope for it. Fight for it.

So here's my message to you from the heart, a million paper airplanes from me to you: chase after them.

You never know what you'll find at the other end.

/

fin.


	4. Lost Rings and Proposals

**A/N: _I decided that I wrote too many sad fics, so here's a nice good ol' proposal. I didn't want romantic candle lights or anything cheesy like that, but I didn't want it to be too grand either. I think Brittana is a simple yet complicated couple, so I tried my hardest for Santana's proposal to reflect that. It's fate and destiny and, if we are to sum up both those things: accidents. Misleadings that lead us to somewhere far beyond our imagination. Mistakes that somehow were right.  
_**

**_This one's based of the prompts "Join Me" and "Wed Me" both of which is one character proposing to another, but I might do an actual wedding one for "Wed Me." We'll see. I'm really bad at fluff... So that's just a warning there. _**

**_AND! Ah, I'm so overwhelmed by the things you guys say! I can't believe someone recommended this at a Heya thread. _**

**_Thank you guys so much!_**

**_So sorry that this fic is late; I've already got another one typed out so be on the look out for that soon._**

**_Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this._**

**_I'd love to hear about what you guys thought, so a lil' review will sure be nice!_**

* * *

"Q, you're supposed to look for rings _with_ me! Not go off wandering by yourself and muttering which one has the bigger diamond and fits the short fat fingers of Rachel Berry!"

They're at their fifth store now, and both Santana's and Quinn's patience were wearing thin. Well, it was more of Quinn's patience, since Santana just seemed stressed out and nervous, something the other blonde rarely see from her.

"Oh, shut it, S. I'm allowed to fantasize here. It's been hours and we still haven't found anything," Quinn said calmly, eyeing each ring behind the glass case carefully.

"It just has to be perfect, Quinn!" Santana all but whined.

"I'm sure Brittany will love whatever you offer her."

Santana huffed and looked on, eyeing the rings but finding nothing that screams _Brittany_. "Why can't we skip this whole part and just get to my wedding day?"

Coming beside Santana to help her search, Quinn snorted. "I'm sure Britt will love whatever you choose for her, as long as she gets to call you her wife."

"Reassuring, but not really helping right now," Santana mumbled, turning to leave the store. "Let's check the one of fifth avenue. Maybe they'll have something there." She gave the cashier a weird look as his face fell and looked slightly disappointed, as if he were expecting Santana to find something here. As if he knew Santana would find the perfect ring.

That's when she saw it. Out of the corner of her eye, a simple ring with a single, small and almost unnoticeable diamond in the middle. Despite it's size though, the diamond shone and stood out from all the others in the small and cramped store.

That's the one.

Santana points to it, almost like a little kid demanding a toy. "That one," she breathed. Quinn comes over then, looking over Santana's shoulder and couldn't help but gasp a little at the ring.

"It's perfect, S," Quinn murmurs almost inaudibly.

Santana just nods.

"Would you like me to take it out for you for a better look?" Santana snaps out of her trance and looks up, her eyes meeting the guy behind the counter. He had a five o'clock shadow and looked like he didn't sleep much. His blue eyes, however, shone. He looked genuinely excited that Santana had decided to stay and pick out a ring. He looked even more ecstatic when he realized which ring Santana was pointing to. Santana squinted at the name tag. _Castiel._

"No, it's fine. That's the one I want."

Castiel nods and smiles knowingly. "Not many pick out this ring," he says as he takes out a key and unlocks the glass case. "Only those who's been to hell and back sees the shine in that diamond." He smiles knowingly as he said these words, like he had really been to hell and back and knew of all of Santana's fears and burdens.

It made Santana just the tiniest bit uncomfortable.

"Do you see it?" Quinn asks from beside her.

Castiel's smile turns a little sad and he nods. It makes Santana wonder just what he's been through. She watches as he hesitated for a second before saying, "My friend and I... We've been through a lot. He's gone now." His face turns solemn as his head bobbed back and forth, seemingly satisfied with the way he had answered the question. He proceeded on to taking out the ring and putting it into it's respectable box. "His name was Dean. Good guy."

And just then, Santana knows. She knows that Dean was more to Castiel than he had let on. She knows because for years, she had been calling Brittany a friend in the exact same way; with hesitancy and sadness. Except Castiel's eyes were clouded with regret. It's too late now. Whatever happened to Dean, whatever happened to their so called friendship with the lines blurred between that and something more, has happened, and it was too late to fix anything now. She suspects Quinn knows that too, because she stares at Castiel with sympathy and didn't comment any further.

And Castiel understands, because he smiles lovingly at Santana before handing her the small shopping bag after she had paid. "Treat her well."

Santana doesn't hesitate for a second before staring at bright but dull blue eyes and saying, "I will."

She's lucky, she knows. Lucky that she's found the strength to call Brittany as more than her best friend. She takes the bag from Castiel and walks out of the shop, Quinn trailing behind her.

"Well," Quinn piped up. "That was interesting."

Santana opens the door to the driver seat of her Range Rover and ducks in as Quinn does the same on the other side. "I'll say," she says, and reaches over to tuck the ring safely in the glove compartment.

* * *

Santana tells the former glee club about her proposal plan a week later.

She was hesitant at first, but she needed ideas. Good ideas. Because Brittany deserves more than a simple fancy dinner and a stroll around the park. So she called them all up and sort of tricked them into thinking this was going to be a barbecue while Brittany had been out at work.

It all went relatively well until someone mentioned how Brittany resembled Cinderella, which lead to pumpkins and fairy god mothers and _carriage rides_.

Puck had pitched _that_ little idea almost nonchalantly and rolled his eyes ("Just go stroll around the park and ask for a carriage ride or something.")

Then Rachel started screeching and screaming and lecturing like normal Rachel Berry on crack and cocaine and maybe even ecstasy. And if Rachel had grown balls and then got them cut off by the shadiest gang of Lima Heights, she would've lunged at Puck and rearranged his face. But Rachel was raised by two gay dads in one of the richest parts of Lima, so she just yelled at Puck while pointing aggressively.

Somehow, everyone took this opportunity to give out ideas.

"Those horses are meant to run free, not kept in filthy stables or trailers and then be force to pull a stupid cart for idiots like you around!"

"What about the beach?"

"Naw, man, what about the rooftop?"

"You boys have not a romantic or creative bone in your body."

"You got an idea, Cohen-Chang?!"

"Oh! Or a carriage ride!"

"Finn!"

"You're here!"

"You're late."

"What's so bad about carriage rides? I mean, they're romantic, right?"

"Someone make Frankenteen shut up before he suggests a romantic candle-lit dinner of steaks!"

"What's wrong with carriage rides?"

"Those horses are like slaves! Slavery is illegal!"

"Fabray, take your hobbit girlfriend out or I /will/. With my fist."

"Rach, babe, remember our steps. Breathe in, breathe out. Some people like meat. Puck is an idiot. Think Barbra Streisand."

"I still don't get why you need our help."

"I'm fresh out of ideas."

"Picnic under the stars?"

"Lady Gaga concert!"

"And let Santana tell Brittany she'll always be her little monster?"

"Who's monster? Santana's or Gaga's?"

"Gaga. Definitely Gaga."

"Are any of you taking this seriously?"

Kurt defiantly rose his hand. "I'm more of a wedding planner, but I suppose this is almost the same, if not as important."

"It isn't like Brittany's gonna say no."

"Why don't you just sing to her?"

Everybody stopped and turned. Sugar sat there, arms crossed against her chest and sitting crossed legged on the couch.  
"I mean, you've always said stuff to her through song when you're being a wimp."

Santana let the insult slide. "What'll I sing?"

Everyone ignored her.

"I liked the picnic under the star bit though, maybe we should keep that," Quinn suggested, an arm looped around Rachel's waist. She'd calm down somewhere between romantic steaks and Lady Gaga. Tina pumped her fist in the corner, glad that her idea had been taken into consideration.

"Right. The rest of you can leave. I don't know why I called any of you here in the first place."

"You promised us burgers."

"Non-vegan burgers."

"When's Brittany coming home anyways?"

Santana stared on in awe. "Nothing's changed. You're all as loud and obnoxious as I remembered."

"That only described Rachel!"

"She was practically the whole glee club anyways."

"Hell no, we all know who had the real voice of glee club."

"Jesse?"

"He didn't even go there!"

* * *

A week of planning and fist fights (mostly Sam and Puck holing her back while she yelled profanities in Spanish at Rachel) and screaming later, Santana found herself yet in another dilemma.

"Where the fuck did I put the ring?!"

* * *

To say things had gotten from bad to worse was probably the biggest understatement in Santana's life.

How could she lose the fucking ring? Who the fuck was she?

She didn't even know any more. She tried retracing her steps that day, first to her office at the law firm, then she raced back home to fling stuff out of every closet and drawer in the small two-bedroom apartment she occupied with Brittany.

Now Santana stands alone in the middle of the mess she's made, wanting to curl up in a ball and sob. Of course she'd manage to mess up the one of the most important thing she'll ever do in her life.

Santana sighed and ran a hand through her hair, looking over to the clock and almost did a double take. It's five. Brittany would be home in an hour and that means she has exactly 45 minutes to put all the shit she'd frantically thrown out their closet and back where they belonged.

Inwardly groaning, Santana bent down to pick up some shoe boxes when she noticed the cardboard box underneath jackets and dresses that were suppose to be hung up. Scrawled on the side were the words, "Summer: 2009-2012." Weird. She didn't remember that being there.

Curious as to what's inside, Santana dumped the shoe boxes aside and made her way to the box. 2009 to 2012. Those were the summers they'd spent together in high school. Summers that'd helped them grow and become the women they both were now.

Smiling at memories, Santana opens the box. She'd forgotten what Brittany and her had put in there.

The first thing she sees, she didn't expect at all. A small, worn and blue metal box rested on top of old cheer uniforms, stuffed animals, and old scrap books. Santana remembers this box. The paint on it was chipped and faded, but she remembers the light blue that reminded her of Brittany's eyes and the various stickers that used to decorate the box.

Hesitant, Santana opens the metal box, knowing full well what she would find in there.

A letter addressed to her. From herself, 10 years ago, when she was 17 and everything had seem to stop. Stop with the realization and the struggle that perhaps, after all these years, her and Brittany were something far more than what she had ever hoped for. Santana remembers this letter. It'd been Brittany's idea, to write to their future selves because apparently that's the closest she could get to a time machine (for now, she says). She urged Santana and told her it had been something she'd wanted to do in a long time; and Santana, immune to everything but Brittany, gave in as soon as the other girl pouted.

_27 year-old Santana,_

_As you'll recall, this was Britt's idea. She said I could ask you anything and that no one would ever read this but future me, not even her, so it'd be safe to ask what I wanted._

_Maybe this is a confession. Maybe I'm still trying to figure everything out. But I love her, I love her so much it hurts, and you know who I'm talking about, I'm sure. I told her we were best friends. Are best friends secretly code for soul mates? Don't answer that._

_But it's scary, because this is everything I've ever wanted and yet we're back to square one, linking pinkies and giggling and I'm not even sure if we're dating. Are we dating? No, don't answer that either; I have a different question, and Britts only allowed one._

_I wish I'm brave enough. Brave enough to ask her about the kisses and cuddles. Brave enough to admit to myself I am what I am. See? I'm not even brave enough to write it down in a letter addressed to myself._

_Are you braver now?_

Santana sifted through the box, finding more letters, most of them addressed to her, others addressed to Brittany. She remembers these. After her first letter to herself when she was 17, Santana got, well, addicted. Writing letters had seem less intimidating and cheesy than writing in a diary. So that's what she did. She wrote when something happened, when nothing seemed endless, when her world almost stopped.

She remembers falling and TV ads and slapping Finn Hudson.

She remembers the pills and hesitation and Brittany. She remembers scrawling a messy letter to everyone else in an irrational state. A letter that people would read after she was no longer on this Earth.

_Mami, Papi,_  
_If you're reading this; know that it's not your fault. It isn't anyone's fault but mine, really. By now, you've probably heard._

Santana traced her writing, the ink splatters from pressing too hard, the stains from her tears. She remembers not knowing what else to say.

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not brave enough. I'm sorry that I'm not strong enough. Thank you, Mami. Thank you, Papi. You've given me everything, but I do think it's my time to go now. And the only thing I have to say about this is that I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting and I'm tired of hiding. My body aches and sometimes I can't find the strength to even get out of bed. I'm sorry._

Santana remembers writing to her 17 year old self, a year later.

_You're not brave enough. You'll never be._

Then the words blurred, and Santana remembers crying and Brittany rushing in to her bedroom and finding her, by her desk and writing that letter. She remembers the way crystal blue eyes stared at her; full of fear and understanding and sadness.

Storms. That's what it was. A storm. And in the eye of such a storm was Brittany S Pierce, crumbling that letter into a useless ball and flinging it on the ground before embracing Santana in all her fucked up glory; whispering incoherent sentences and Santana hadn't been quite sure who was crying harder, her or Brittany. But she knew one thing for certain: Brittany had been more terrified than her.

She remembers picking that crumpled balled up piece of paper a week later, unfolding it and placing it in the letter box as a reminder of what she almost did and who she almost lost. No. _Who_ almost lost her. She remembers the letter Brittany leaves her with the very next day.

_Santana,_

_Remember when we were in first grade, and the teacher asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up? She asked us what we dreamt to be; or what we dream to do. She told us to write it on a slip of paper, and then to read it aloud in class. I didn't know what the point of that was. Dreams change all the time as we grow and decide what we wanted. Why do they ask that? To ensure we are all going somewhere in life? Because to be honest, I don't think the teacher quite knew where she was going in life either. I don't think anyone does. We all just wander around until we find our purpose; and even then we are never really at peace. We are all trying to find that balance on the teeter toter, but we never really find out who's at the other end._

_I left that slip of paper blank. I told everyone I wanted to be a dancer, and you stared at me weird because you knew I hadn't written anything on that slip of paper._

_It was blank until yesterday._

_Certain dreams change as we grow and adapt and learn. Sometimes I think I want to be a dancer and other times I want to be a nurse because taking care of people is what I'm good at. When I was seven I wished for a cat and when I was sixteen I wish Lord Tubbington would kick his smoking habits. But there's one dream that I know will never change. That's the dream I wrote on that slip of paper. I think it's been my dream for a while now; ever since first grade when the teacher asked us what we wanted to do in our life._

_To marry you. To make you mine; and in return to give everything I have to you._

_That is my dream. You are the one on the end of my teeter toter, the one who balances it out and the one who smiles as we go through the ups and downs in life._

_And you're going to help me achieve this dream, because that's what partnership is about, right? That's why we can make it through._

_Because one day, Santana Lopez, one day I'll marry you._

_Love Future Wife,_

_ Brittany S. Pierce._

Santana laughs. God, she's going to marry Brittany. She's going to call Brittany her fiance and her wife and-

"I remember that letter."

Santana jumps and drops the metal letter box, letting it meet the floor with a loud _clang!_ sound and there's paper everywhere; soaring and flying in the room. "Brittany!"

"I'm home, San," Brittany says just beside Santana's ears, making her shiver. "What's with the mess?"

"I-uh, I'm," Santana stutters as she struggles for an excuse. She shoves her hands in her jeans pockets and that's when she feels like the biggest idiot in the entire fucking universe. Lying to Brittany has never been her forte. "Remember when you wrote a letter to me?"

Brittany steps back with an amused smile and tilts her head just the slightest bit in confusion. "The one you're holding in your hand?" She giggles, "Of course I remember it."

Santana's throat is dry and she realizes that this isn't the plan but to hell with it; she's had a hell of a day and all along, the ring was right where she last left it in the morning. She's going to make Brittany's dream come true now and it's going to be the best damn moment in her life. She takes both of Brittany's hands in her's and lets them hang loosely between them.

And Brittany's eyes shines.

"When everyone asked what I wanted to do when I grew up, I always answered with the same thing. I said I wanted to be a singer; or become famous, or rich, or all three. But on that little slip of paper that Mrs. Macdonald gave us; I wrote something else and kept it in my pockets. I kept it a secret, because at the time, it seemed wrong. But now it's anything but that. Do you know what I wrote, Britt?"

Letters and drawings and memories are still flying above their heads and around their bodies; the room is a cluster mess of what they had built together. Brittany shakes her head.

Santana gets down on one knee.

"I wrote that one day, I'll marry you. And thank god I did, because I didn't know that one slip of paper meant the one dream that'll never change."

Brittany's eyes are filled with unshed tears and it dances as Santana teased her about her letter. Santana reaches down and digs her hand in her pockets. and takes out the ring that's been there since she woke up in the morning. "Brittany S. Pierce," she says, and hears Brittany's sharp breath as Santana tries to take deep, calming breaths. "You're my best friend, my soul mate. There's a million words out there and not one of them can really sum up how I feel about you." She looks up to crystal blue eyes, positively beaming, and she asks, "Will you make my dream come true?"

Brittany laughs and Santana smirks and they're both crying a little, but there's enough time as Brittany squeaks out a tiny "yes!" and throws herself at Santana, who was still kneeling on one knee on the ground. Losing balance, they both fall on the ground strewn with letters and boxes, and Brittany's lips met Santana's.

"You stole my dream," Brittany whispers against Santana's lips, before kissing her again, tilting her head to make the kiss deeper. Santana's eyes flutters close, savouring the taste of Brittany's lips and her hands flies automatically to Brittany's waist. It was soft and slow, like they had all the time in the world; because in that one moment, the teeter toter is balanced.

Santana makes a mental note to her 17 year-old self.

_You were never really brave by yourself. You just found someone who gave you the strength and reason to be._

* * *

The whole glee club shows up at exactly nine o'clock at night, piling in Santana and Brittany's apartment in a horrible cluster, each shouting and talking over each other. Needless to say they were surprised at what they found.

Brittany and Santana, cuddled up against each other and sneaking shy glances at each other and not paying attention to the movie that was playing in front of them at all.

And as Brittany excitedly bounces over to everyone and told them what happened just a little over 4 hours ago, Rachel finally caught on as to why Santana looked annoyed and why Brittany was already in her pyjamas. Exasperated, Rachel threw her hands up amongst all the congratulations and shocked looks thrown at Santana's way and cried, "I learned 'Come To My Window' for _nothing_?!"


	5. To Dance Again

Sorry for the EXTREME lateness.

I can't say anything but that I have gotten lazy and incapable in forming sentences in real life.

Please enjoy this little piece that has been saved on my iPod for 3 months.

If you're reading, thank you. x

* * *

The thing to say about Sergeant Santana Lopez is that she, under any given circumstances, does not dance. Dancing does not fare well to her; any misstep will send you tripping on the ground and Santana likes her steps sure and grounded. She hasn't time for missteps. There's been too many in her life already.

A misfire in war had taken her father, and each mistake she makes in her wake is met by the disappointed gaze of her mother. Everything in her life was a mistake. Hell, her _life_ in itself; her birth, her very own existence, she herself was a mistake.

"You look just like your father."

Santana gets it. She really does. Her mother can't stare at her because it reminds her of her dead husband. Can barely even speak to her without mentioning her father once.

And that's why Santana doesn't call, doesn't text, doesn't even /email/ her mother about her recent deployment to Iraq.

Besides, the last time she called the things her mother said still left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"I won't be able to make it, mija." Her words were soft, gentle; warm. But all Santana could feel was the wave of numbness and coldness washing over her. "You know how it is."

Santana had wanted to yell._ No, I don't how it is. Because it reminds you of dad? Because the last time you saw him was Family Day? That's why you can't risk seeing your own daughter; because that may be the last time too? Where's the logic?! I'm not my father!_ But all that came up was a muffled, "Yeah," and Santana hung up before her mother could form another sentence.

Santana understands.

Brittany S Pierce used to think she would grow up to be a dancer. Any kind of dancing would be fine, so long as her body moved to the beat and finally feeling like she belonged.

That's the thing about Sergeant Pierce. She doesn't belong - physically, mentally, emotionally - in any given way. She was much taller than all the other girls in middle school, and a lot less smart. She's been told that she lived in an illusion; that the world wasn't really all unicorns and rainbows and butterflies. She'd found that out soon enough.

On December 26th, her 17th birthday, she had a dance recital. A competition of sorts; and as Brittany's body sway to the beat, one of the dancers beside made a misstep.

And Brittany landed the wrong way on her ankle, or her foot, or her leg - she still wasn't sure - and that had been that.

She wouldn't dance again. And so that's why she's stuck in a crappy pay phone booth, soaked head to toe from the pouring rain, calling her parents about her deployment to Iraq.

Life has a funny way of turning itself around, and though Brittany hardly understand much about facts, she understands.

They meet in the pouring rain.

It sounds cliche and stupid and predictable, but sometimes it's the only way things happen. Plus there were guns going off everywhere. So maybe it wasnt so cliche and predictable.

How did it end up like this again?

"Lieutenant Lopez to HQ, we need backup! We've been ambushed. Bring it now!" She's running as guns went off beside her and behind her; crouched down low to find cover and avoid getting hurt. She spots a half-build wall within a three feet distance and let out a relieved sigh.

Something crackled from her talkie and Santana could only hope it was a yes.

Guess dying isn't on her list today.

"DUCK!"

A yell and then Santana felt someone come crashing down on her; and she caught a flash of too-bright hair as a land mine goes off near her in some direction. Her vision blurred and she groaned. /God, she has got to stop with the dry humor./

Santana shook her head and found bright blue eyes staring at her. She realizes she's still sprawled out on the ground from the tackle, and suddenly she couldn't help but feel self-conscious. She tried to sit up, but her vision swam. She groaned.

The unknown pressure of a body atop her quickly vanished.

"No-" a voice started. "Just-"

The ground shook. Another shell. "Stay down, okay?"

The voice was convincing, and it filled Santana with warmth; the kind that was comforting and not irritating like the burning sun that's making her feel like she's being fried on a barbecue. She closes her eyes as the sound of firing and shouting somehow slowly faded away. God, she could use a nap-

"Stay with me!"

Her eyes shot open. The sounds came back and filled her ears and echoed within her brain. Santana takes in the woman that's staring at her. She was sitting against the abandon wall beside Santana, weapon clutched in her hand.

Santana's eyes meet the woman's, and her breathing hitched.

Blue. Like the sky. Like the lake by the vacation house she stayed at once in the summer, when she was little and everything seemed possible.

"Help's coming, ok? Just-"

"Stay down?" Santana finished.

The blonde stared at her. "Yeah."

Her head pounded. Santana's eyes wandered down; she doesn't know why but it was almost natural and completely /completely/ unprofessional, given both their positions next to each other. "You're bleeding," she points out.

The blonde stared at her right leg. "It's just a scratch."

But the blood was soaking through her uniform; and Santana suddenly felt more alarmed and awake. Hastily, she took out her talkie. "When's the copter coming?!" A crack from the other side. "Hello? Back up! First Sergeant!"

"There's no use."

Santana looked up at the blonde and their eyes met again. "What?"

"The radio station's down." Her blue eyes sparkled.

"Fuck." Santana scrambled to her feet, crouching still, and crawled over to inspect the blonde's leg. "I'm just going to have to do this myself."

She took off her uniform and tear off the hem of her shirt, tying it on the blonde's wound.

"Name's Brittany."

"What?"

"Brittany. Sergeant Pierce; third platoon."

Santana bit the inside of her cheeks to refrain from smiling. "Hardly the time to exchange pleasantries, don't you think?"

Brittany shrugged. "I'd like to think the person that may potentially be saving my leg knows at least a bit about me."

Santana finished the knot and crawled back next to Brittany, slouching against the half abandoned wall. They sit in silence for a while, the blasts and gun shots sounding closer and closer.

The ground shook again, more violently this time.

"Shit!" Santana jumped. That's the closest shell that's gotten near their wall. Debris fell like snow during Christmas in Lima. A pain shot through her head.

Heavy breathing. It's all Santana hears until almost inaudibly, Brittany mumbled, "You think we might get out of here alive?" She turned her head at the brunette. Her leg is burning and she could feel herself slipping. Despite the Latina's best efforts, she was still losing blood. Too much blood.

This isn't a time for mistakes. Santana's made too many for this woman before her to die by her side; "Tell you what, Brittany," Santana turned her head so she was staring right in her crystal blue eyes, "I'll tell you my name when you get your leg fixed."

Brittany let out a small chuckle. "Do you dance?"

Santana laughed. "I don't dance, Sergeant Pierce."

"We'll see."

The thing about Brittany S Pierce was that she loved dancing. She's quite sure she's never loved anything else more; besides her family and friends.

And that's why when Brittany thought about dying in the field, she'd always assumed her life was going to flash before her eyes; and the first thing she'd think of was her very first ballet class.

"Britt?"

She really couldn't hold on any more. The dizziness and pounding of her head, the choking smells of blood and smoke. She closes her eyes; breathing steadily as she waits for the memory of her first ballet class. It doesn't come.

"Brittany, come on, you have to stay awake! Stay with me!"

Instead, as she slips slowly into unconsciousness, all Brittany could think of was what a shame it was that she didn't get to learn the name of the Latina beside her.

Missteps. Mistakes. Regrets.

Santana closed her eyes and took a breath; blood pounding in her ears and a dull thud in her head. She let herself slip. What's one mistake in a mess of millions made in her life time? She turns to Brittany, vision slipping, and remembered a promise.

"It's Santana," she breathed, as she spotted a rescue team from afar, "Santana Lopez. And we're getting out."

With all her remaining strength and her head pounding like a bitch, she made her way towards the unconscious blonde and threw her right arm around her shoulders. She stood up slowly, taking the blonde's dead weight, legs wobbling in the slightest.

This isn't time for mistakes, or regrets, or missteps. This is the time to make them all right, and bring Brittany back safely.

With that, Santana took a breath and made her way towards the rescue team, Brittany tucked to her side and a roaring in her ears.

If there was one right thing Santana has ever done in her life, she was pretty sure this was it.

* * *

_Santana Lopez._

Brittany opened her eyes. Pain shot through her left leg, and she groaned.

"Took you a while."

Brittany turned to see a short blond, looking at a clipboard at the foot of her bed. She's scribbling something on it; tongue poked out the tiniest bit out of concentration.

"Quinn."

The writing didn't stop, and Quinn barely looked up when she said, "We were able to save your leg. I'd suggest bed rest. You're going back home."

"They-they're sending me home?"

Something breaks in Brittany's voice, because Quinn stops writing, her head still ducked down, studying intently at the charts clipped on the board. "Britt, your leg's messed. It'd take more than half a year of physical therapy until we could eventually get it back to the shape it was. Even then, the results aren't guaranteed."

"I can't go home. What am I gonna do? Im- I'm useless there. The most I could do is sit around while my parents fuss."

Quinn sighed. She had been there before and during Brittany's dancing accident; they'd met in high school and Brittany's parents took Quinn in when her parents kicked her out of the house for being pregnant. They'd grown to be sisters, and Quinn knows the tolls that accident had on her friend. "Britt-"

"Can't you just fake my reports?"

"Brittany, you had a really bad infection. That shell was stuck in your leg for a long time. You're lucky we even saved your leg." She turned to Brittany and looked her square in the eyes. "If this is anything else, B, I would let you off. You know I would. But I'm not about to risk your health and safety just because you don't want to go home."

"Q-"

"No, Britt. End of discussion."

When Quinn makes up her mind, Brittany knows no amount of groaning or begging would let her change it. About to turn to sulking, Brittany suddenly remembered something really important. "What about Santana?"

"Who?"

"Sergeant Lopez."

"The woman that carried you across the field?"

Brittany gulped. She didn't know that had happened. "Yeah, her."

Quinn smiled, as though remembering something amusing. "She came to see you yesterday. Got a pretty bad concussion, though."

"So she's okay?"

Quinn just kept smiling, that smile people give you when they know something so obvious that you don't. "Go back to bed, B."

And with that, Quinn put down the clipboard, clicked her pen, and walked out of the hospital room.

When Brittany wakes up a second time, she hears a voice before she could even open her eyes.

"And then Quinn came and told me to get out, so here I am - again. I guess. I don't know why I keep coming." Brittany feels a warm hand on hers, and it took everything in her to not curl her fingers and hold the other hand. "Maybe it's 'cause you saved my life and then passed out beside me so I feel a little obligated to check if you're okay." A huff. "But don't ask me why I'm holding your hand. I won't answer that."

Brittany couldn't hold back her smile. She cracks open her eyes and the sight before her made her grin even bigger. There was Santana, staring down at their hands attentively; as if she was still trying to figure out why they were holding hands, trying to find any other reason other than the fact that she really, really liked holding Brittany's hands.

"Santana."

At her voice, Santana jump in her chair and nearly threw Brittany's hand back down by her side. Brittany immediately started missing the warmth Santana's hands provided her. "Britt."

At the nickname, Brittany smiled. She looked up at Santana, but frowned when she saw the bandage on Santana's forehead. "How's the head?"

"Better. I mean- it's not bad if I get to go back out. Just a minor cut."

Brittany nodded, taking in this information. And then, "I'm getting discharged."

"What?"

"They said," Brittany swallowed, and tried to fight back tears, though she doesn't know where they came from, "my leg's too messed up. The injury I had when I busted my knee already put me at a disadvantage before. They don't want me out there; at least not for another 6 months."

They sat in silence for a long moment as they both let the information sink in.

"How'd you do it? Bust your knee?"

Brittany smiled, wistfully, "Dancing."

"Huh," Santana managed, and picked at the comforters of Brittany's bed mindlessly. "I don't dance."

Brittany smiled, and her eyes were challenging. "You've mentioned something like that before."

Santana hums, and lies her head down on the edge of the bed, turning to Brittany. "You should rest."

"I've been asleep for a while." Brittany smiled at the song Santana had started to hum. "Can I ask why?"

The humming stopped abruptly. Santana lifted her head up in the slightest bit. "Why what?"

"Why you don't dance."

That seemed to throw Santana off, because her entire body tensed. "It's stupid."

"I've been called stupid plenty of times. Try me."

The forward of the answer and challenge stunned Santana. "There's been too many mistakes. My life is made up of mistakes. And dancing- dancing requires all the right steps and decisions. Dancing doesn't fare well with someone like me." She smiles a bashful grin at Brittany. "I can't do it any more. My dad and I used to dance together, in our living room, when I was small. It was a tradition that we would hold a little ball every time he came home from wherever he was placed at the time. And one night, the door bell rang and I thought my dad came home early; but when I opened the door it wasn't my dad." Santana took a huge breath and prepared herself for what to come next, and she felt a hand in hers. She looked up, but all Brittany did was smile and squeezed in reassurance, nodding at her to continue. "Two officers that I'd never seen before. They asked if my mom was home, and just then she showed up behind me. And then she knew what I didnt understand then," her eyes stung from unshed tears, "my dad won't dance with me again."

There's a certain shine in Brittany's eyes then, when Santana ducks her head. She licks her lips, "Will you dance with me?"

"Maybe some day."

Brittany smiles, and she feels herself slipping again. "Mistakes are a lot of things, Santana. Lessons, fate, destiny. They're hardly ever just mistakes."

There's a quiet sniffle from Santana and Brittany squeezes her hand tighter. "Goodnight, Britt."

Brittany sighs peacefully, and whispers as her eyelids grew heavy, "G'night, San."

* * *

A week passed after their first official meeting and it was a bit terrifying how fast Santana had grown accustomed to talking to Brittany. Every time something unexpected fell out of Santana's mouth; like when she had wanted to be a doctor but then somehow got to the army because some homeless guy shouted at her once, Brittany shot back with something just as unexpected and strange.

"My cat was actually the one that suggested this to me," Brittany hummed as Santana pushed her around the courtyard of the hospital on a wheelchair.

"Your cat?"

"Yeah, after I busted my knee, he got nicer and promised to stop dealing drugs. He broke it the minute I left for the army."

And somehow that made Santana light up with delight, because shit, Brittany's weirder than she is.

And maybe - just maybe - she was falling for Brittany more and more as the days went by.

* * *

It happened the second week after Brittany had woke and found out she'd been discharged.

They were in her hospital room, a place where Santana found herself more and more in, talking about everything and nothing. Thats what they'd been doing for a while now; just talking for a whole afternoon until Quinn or some other nurse found them and shooed Santana out, scolding and muttering under their breaths about going way past visiting hours.

This particular day - a rainy Friday afternoon - was different. Somehow the air felt tense, and every time their eyes met Brittany could feel that tingling sensation that made her toes wiggle and her stomach flip in a good way. They were watching the sunset from Brittany's window, and Brittany was content with the silence.

"Do you ever think about dying on the field?"

Stunned, Brittany turned to Santana, only to find her still staring out the window, a wistful look on her face. "Once or twice," was Brittany's reply, "Or maybe three times."

"It's funny," Santana started, and Brittany waited for her to turn around; but her eyes remained fixated on the window and the sunset beyond, "I always thought I'd think about my dad, how I'd see him soon. But when I was about to pass out with you next to me, when I was about to give up, all I could think about was saving you."

Santana turned to her then, and Brittany almost jumped as she realized that their faces were just centimeters apart. She grins cheekily, eyes bright and nervous, and Brittany was captivated. "Your name," was all she blurted out, after a moment of silence.

"Huh?"

"I always thought that if I dying, I'd think about my first ballet lesson and my family; my mom and my dad and my sister. And dance recitals and every time one of them would say they were proud of me. But all I could think about was how it was a shame that I'd never learn your name."

The confessions lingered in the air, full of promises and secrets and buried feelings. Brittany's eyes flickered to Santana's lips, full and plump and she realized, suddenly, how much she wants to kiss them.

So she does.

* * *

It was Sunday before Santana showed up again in her hospital room, looking apologetic and uncharacteristically shy.

"Britt."

Brittany gives her a small nod of acknowledgment, "Santana."

"I'm sorry." Santana's rubbing the back of her neck, a nervous habit that Brittany had come to love.

"It's fine."

"No," the forcefulness of the word startled Brittany, "no, it's not." Santana moved closer to her bed, and her eyes shone with determination and hidden within was fear. "I just- God, B. You have no idea."

Brittany would've giggled at Santana's awkwardness if she hadn't been trying so hard to be mad at her. So she saves her from more stuttering instead, and muttered, "I do."

And then Santana knew.

So she surges forward, and with a confidence she's never felt before, she kisses Brittany.

Nothing had felt more right.

* * *

Brittany's parents and her younger sister came on a Tuesday; two days before Brittany was to be released and discharged.

Santana doesn't show for any of the visits and meet her family like they'd planned.

* * *

It was only until she was being rolled out in a wheelchair one last time out of the hospital does Brittany learn about Santana's deployment and return to Iraq. Quinn sighed softly as flickers of emotions flashed across Brittany's face; first anger, then sadness, and finally fear. How dare she left without telling her. What if she got hurt? What if the next time Brittany saw Santana, she was in a hospital bed, dying? What if she never saw her again at all?

In the midst of her thoughts, Brittany almost didn't notice the letter in front of her.

"She told me to give this to you."

Brittany looked up and her eyes met hazel, it sparkled with hope like she knew something Brittany didn't; like she knew Santana was coming back, no matter what.

It wasn't until she read the letter that Brittany knew, too, without a doubt or a second thought.

In messy scrawl, all that was on the paper was a single sentence.

_Britt,_  
_I promise you a dance soon._

_All My Love,_  
_Santana._

* * *

__Review/Fav/Follow?


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